‘I hope.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I hope that if I send for you, you will come.’
‘To Mycenae?’ I asked. ‘For what reason?’
The tips of his ears reddened beneath his thick, dark curls. ‘I said before I left that I could not look for a wife before I had reclaimed my throne,’ he said. ‘But now that I have – I’ve asked your father, and he is happy for us to marry.’
I felt oddly calm, standing in the cool night air. I looked at this man standing before me, a king of his own city, born of an intriguing family, the brother of my sister’s choice, and the man my father had chosen for me. It could be worse, I thought.
My father was eager to cement his alliances, and I felt all of Sparta hum with a contented buzz as the preparations for my departure to Mycenae got under way. I could see that Aga-memnon and my father were in accord that their influence and power could only be strengthened by the friendship between Mycenae and Sparta; that the rest of Greece would surely bow to their combined might. It felt like the spread of the Peloponnese would belong to us.
‘We will see each other again soon,’ Helen vowed as we held each other tightly on the creaking wooden deck.
Though I knew she sought to soothe herself, I could not help but feel the unlikelihood of her words. The distance was not far, but I knew our visits would be sparse. The great sprawling Arcadian mountains would tower between us. Besides, we had never been separated for as much as a day. Even if it were only months before we saw each other again, it was an unimaginable length of time.
The air was cool against my damp face as the sails flapped and bulged behind me. It would be speedy sailing, Agamemnon had assured me, for the winds were fair and on our side. I twisted my hands together, feeling the absence of Helen’s fingers twined through mine as the cries of the oarsmen went up and the ship slowly set forth upon the white-tipped waves. I could read triumph in my father’s face as he stood, stately and regal at the harbour, watching us go. Helen’s face was hidden in Menelaus’ shoulder, but as the oars sliced cleanly through the foam, she looked up at me and I saw her face shining, radiant and proud. I had grown so used to her beauty that I hardly noticed it any more, until a moment like this when she would sweep away my breath in a heartbeat. Her smile was the last thing I saw as I hung over the wooden rails, waving frantically, undignified, in half-laughter, half-tears.
4
Cassandra
I shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as I waited, the rising steam from the hot water making my dress cling to my skin. My sister, Laodice, reclined luxuriously in her bath, her hair piled in curls on top of her head, her eyes dreamy, whilst the slaves darted about, intent on the preparations. My eyelids were heavy; I was tired from the late feast the night before and I longed to close them. We had been up at sunrise: our father had offered a pure white lamb for sacrifice to Hera, seeking her blessings for Laodice’s marriage. There was still so much of the day to be done and already I longed for the quiet comfort of my own bed.
A tugging at my dress startled me. There was my sister, little Polyxena, her round cheeks flushed from the warmth, her big eyes fixed on the bath, intrigued by the novelty of the day. ‘What will the wedding be like?’ she asked again, for at least the dozenth time.
I sighed, not wanting to explain it all again. ‘I don’t know.’
She pursed her lips, annoyed not to be indulged. ‘Why do people get married?’ she tried.
‘I definitely don’t know.’
My mother swept past, tutting as she went. ‘You’ll know in good time, Cassandra,’ she said. ‘It’ll be your turn soon.’
I reddened. There was an abundance of princes and princesses of Troy, and my parents had no need for me to provide any more grandchildren, but still the prospect of a husband shadowed my future. My elder sister Ilione had married the year before. Now it was Laodice’s turn, and I worried that her disappointed suitors might turn their attentions to me. Helicaon, Laodice’s intended, seemed inoffensive, but that was the best I could say of him. The idea of spending a moment alone with him or any other man filled me with nothing but dread. I had none of my sisters’ ease in conversation or charm. I was considered odd in general – quiet and awkward, and prone to striking a conversation dead.
A great bustle of activity commenced in getting Laodice out of her bath, dried, dressed and veiled. I hung back, hoping I wouldn’t be called on to offer any opinion.
I wasn’t. I hovered at the fringes all day, watching the guests mingling freely, Laodice resplendent and beautiful, my mother and father proudly accepting congratulations. I felt sick picturing myself at the centre of such a scene. The only peace I had felt all day was in the temple at dawn, scattering barley before the priest took up his knife.